


Union Of The Snake

by kagakuninjatai



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Reader-Insert, eli gets a positive adult influence, everybody gets some therapy, kaz gets the prosthesises he deserves, quiet gets some friends, this is self insert garbage fix it fic where nothing too terrible happens, we are fixing everything in mgsv that annoyed me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 09:32:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15637998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kagakuninjatai/pseuds/kagakuninjatai
Summary: You’re a Mother Base soldier. You do some things.It’s 2018 baby self-insert fics are back!!!





	1. Chapter 1

Its a cool night in the Afghanistan desert.

You are positioned on a rocky outcrop just above a small roadblock. It took a good amount of effort to climb up the stony cliff, your sniper rifle strapped to your back banging against the backs of your thighs as you pushed your way up through the thicket, slipping haphazardly on the pebbles beneath your boots.

Your fellow soldiers drawl through the radio in your ear, benign chatter filling the dreary silence of the desert. One asks if you need him to bring you a snack. Another laughs, says he misses his mother’s homemade stew. A new voice joins in and says Russian military rations are better than the shit he got at home.

The cold bites into your skin, numbing your bones, and your joints are beginning to ache from the lack of movement. A yawn echoes over the radio, huffing that whatever is in this damn convoy better be important enough to waste their time like this. You tell him to shut the hell up.

Your job is to wait, and you’re damn good at it.

You wriggle your toes, slowly flexing your muscles to chase the cramps away. From the top of the cliff, you hear the click-clack of sheeps hooves on the stony ground.

You pull your face back from your scope and rub your eyes. Sighing, you pull your canteen from your satchel and sit up, surveying the surrounds. Whilst in the midst of taking a well-deserved sip, movement in the corner of your eye draws your attention. If you weren’t trained for it, you would’ve ignored it. Probably just an animal... There were enough of them around. Luckily you know better.

You reposition yourself by the edge and aim the rifle back towards the roadblock. The movement had come from nearby the command tent, so you train the scope on a nearby bush. You wait patiently and sure enough there’s signs of movement again.

You put a call through the radio to get someone to check it out but there’s no reply. You call again, telling these assholes to hurry up and get their shit together. You’re freezing your ass off.

There’s only static.

You swear loudly and stand up, slinging your satchel over your shoulder. You slide down the cliffside on your ass, kicking up dust and dirt as you hurry down. You make your way over to the camp, calling the names of your fellow soldiers but there’s no answer. You can’t see them. You tell them that if it’s a joke, it’s not funny, and that this kind of shit doesn’t fly with your commander, and that these assholes are lucky you can’t find them because you were going to make them regret.

You don’t get to finish telling them what they were going to regret as a gloved hand covers your mouth and an arm wraps itself around your neck. You’re roughly pulled to the ground and a gruff voice tells you (in English!) to spit it out. You do, with all your might, into the man’s face, and the grip around your neck tightens. You buck your head back, hoping to hit the bastard hard enough that his grip loosens, flailing your legs hoping that just one of your weak kicks manages to land. You lose consciousness quickly.

You wake up in an unfamiliar bed surrounded by unfamiliar faces. Your mouth tastes like you haven’t brushed your teeth in days and your hair is full of dust.

“Your name is Ashen Hawk.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thought we could have some cool 80s bops with this garbage so heres the first which, uncoincidentally, this fic is named after  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n6p5Q6_JBes
> 
> trying to keep them from 1984 and before but time isnt real so

You feel like you shouldn't be here.

Standing under the blazing sun in the middle of the ocean surrounded by big burly men from all corners of the world, it is safe to say you're feeling just a little bit overwhelmed. The harsh sea breeze whips your hair into your face and you shift slightly so the shadow of the man next to you shields you from the glaring light. You've been standing at attention for nearly an hour now and you know it's reached the point where it's less about explaining expectations and what's happening and where you're going to be assigned, and more about wheedling out the weak and seeing who faints first. Sneaking glances at your new comrades, you know nobody is quitting that easily.

They start you running drills soon after. You know you won't be able to keep up with the rest of them, considering these guys are  **huge** , so you don't push yourself too hard. You bring up the rear while the rest of them vie for the lead, watching quietly as egos clash. They glare daggers at each other as your assessor speaks, rubbing a hand over your sweat-soaked, sunburnt neck.

Physically, you know you would never get S-rank. You've seen one other female soldier here on the Quarantine Platform and she was absolutely  **jacked**. You feel envious that she seems to find this stuff so easy, so natural, that she can be so much more comfortable in this environment than you. She's in the thick of it, talking shit with all the men and blending in seamlessly, whereas you're still on the sidelines, wary. You furrow your brows as you watch her perfectly execute a CQC takedown on three men at once and sigh. You're envious and you know that's perfectly fair when you're immersed in this kind of environment. It brings you back to your first days of training, when you were so unsure of yourself and were willing to try anything if it could give you even a small sense of purpose. Now you know better.

It's your groups turn and you step up with the rest of them. Names are called and pairs step up to show off their skills. One man falls, another takes his place. You should be watching. You should be focusing on weaknesses and working out how best to get out of this test unscathed and without looking like you're completely throwing the fight, but your eyes wander up to the platform above and settle on the men watching the mock battles unfold beneath them. There are no identifying markers - once you're in you're no one, just another Diamond Dog - so you can't tell who belongs where, but one man stands out from the rest. His maroon scarf dances in the wind as he speaks with a soldier in full battle dress, who hands him some papers and leaves quickly. The man slicks back his silvery hair and turns his attention back to the training ground. Even from this distance you can tell, despite the Western apparel, he's not a man to be trifled with. You continue to study him, trying to identify the weapons on his hips when you realise he's noticed. Cold grey eyes meet yours and you feel a chill creep across your burnt neck, making you want to turn away. You tilt your head sideways, curious, and the man smirks, raising two fingers to his temple and saluting you. Your eyes narrow.

Your attention is drawn back to your immediate surrounds as your new name is called and you step up to the instructor, who asks you if you need to go over the basics of CQC. You shake your head. You know enough. From the corner of your eye, you see the smirks of the men around you. You don't hear the words they whisper but you know them all the same.

The man you're supposed to dispatch, Coyote, looks like he's twice your height. His biceps are thicker than your thighs. You squint up at him and his eyes bore down on you.  _Huh_.

Coyote grins, running a wet tongue over thick lips. "I'll go easy on you, sweetheart."

You shrug, voice deadpanning, "Okay then."

Confusion flashes across his face at your nonchalant reply but is quickly gone as he moves to a defensive stance. You shift your weight to your toes. You hear more murmuring. Guess it doesn't look like much from the outside. The instructor calls out and Coyote rushes towards, shoulder braced to ram into you but you sidestep easily. He careens to a stop. His size is both an advantage and a curse but he doesn't know it. He tries again but it's a feint, throwing a heavy-handed punch straight at your face. You duck under it and step away again. He huffs, trying to hide his frustration. Your face is still blank: nothing he's doing surprises you. He feints again, stepping around and aiming a kick at you. He's aiming too high and you drop to the ground, sweeping his grounded leg out from underneath him. He lands on his ass with a heavy thud and a grunt. You watch as he wipes a hand over his face and spits on the ground, standing back up quickly. He's panting. You're more worried about the fact your skin is going to be peeling tomorrow after being out in the sun for so long.

The sadist in you wants to tease, to berate, to humiliate - make these assholes know that you mean business. To knock this piece of shit off his high horse and grind his face into paste beneath your boot. You look back up to the grey-haired man and his eyes are still on you, face gazing carefully back at you. The sound of rubber soles rushing towards you snaps your eyes back down as Coyote attempts another attack. You decide enough is enough. Coyote attempts another punch, and this time you don't step aside. Instead you face him head on. You deflect the punch with one hand, while the other aims for his solar plexus. Your punch connects and you hear the wind rush out of your opponent. Coyote coughs hard, and you take the moment to land a hard kick in his stomach, sending him to the ground.  _Punch, Punch, Kick._ Textbook takedown.

The instructor nods at you as you resume your place in the crowd.

~~~~~~~

The tests continue for the rest of the week.

You really want to talk to the other girl but you haven't gotten the chance. Every time the opportunity has arisen your attempts had been thwarted - either you'd been dragged away to do another skills test or she had just already been surrounded by people. You hoped once you were off the Quarantine Platform that there would be more women around.

The marksmanship and gunsmith tests had been easy because that's just what you'd been doing before Big Boss himself had fultoned you away in the middle of the night. You didn't enjoy it but that was just where you were needed. You were a sniper so of course you could easily hit a target, be it with a small sidearm, a machinegun, or a rifle. Disassembling, cleaning, and reassembling a weapon was second nature to you. Your hands were quick and steady because they needed to be for your main specialty.

~~~~~~~

You sit in the centre of the darkened room, your single chair surrounded by five men standing around you. They ask you questions about your past, what you were before, your duties, your goals, your dreams. Then they start talking about your test results. They say you are suited for the security team and you can't help making a face at that. The grey-haired man, whom you now knew was the infamous Shalashaska you'd heard whispers about while in Afghanistan, raises an eyebrow at you.

"The security team is above capacity. Most of the new operatives are being sent to the FOB. You," Ocelot drawled, "Would be of more use on the Intel team."

A cough, drawing their attention to one of the other men. "I think with your history as a combat medic, your experience would be invaluable to our medical team."

The other men murmur in agreement but Ocelot stays silent. He's watching you closely and you're not sure what he's looking for. He sighs and folds his arms across his chest. "Sure, we're not short on guns." He turns, waving a hand in the air as he walks towards the door. "But as soon as we are I'm making sure your talents are put to good use."

You're given your new assignment and sent to the helipad, where the other new medical staff are waiting.


End file.
